


Beginnings

by sheafrotherdon



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-05
Updated: 2011-04-05
Packaged: 2017-10-17 15:47:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/178423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheafrotherdon/pseuds/sheafrotherdon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How it might have begun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beginnings

"Go read your book," Ellen tells Danny, herding him toward the living room while Matt whines and fusses at her hip. "Go read your book, and once I've changed your brother's butt . . ."

"His butt stinks," Danny says, sighing with all the burdensome weight of his five full years. "His butt always stinks."

"Yeah, well, he's a baby, we should talk some time, you and me, about the stinks you made when you were little." She shushes at Matt, as if that'll help, as if he won't melt down in about ten seconds into full-blown screaming. "Go, we'll have dinner before you know it."

"Yeah," Danny says with that strange mix of cheer and resignation he's been working since the baby came, but he's not unhappy, already turning the pages of his book as he ambles off, the cover battered and dog-eared from the hundred other kids at the library before him, but it's shiny new in his world, which is all that matters right now. It means peace for a time – or the hum of restrained chaos, which is as good as it gets, Ellen thinks, with two of them – Matt chewing on the leg of a soft, toy lamb while Ellen cleans him up, gurgling his usual vague noises about world politics or whatever fills his head. She hears the TV switch on and rolls her eyes. "Danny? No TV before dinner, you know the rule." But the TV stays on and she's up to her elbows in poop, and once that's taken care of there's Matt's opinions on being fed to deal with – a dish full of applesauce once he's strapped into his high chair, and he can eat it or fling it at the walls, she thinks, that's his to decide. "Danny. What did I say?" And she hustles into the living room, readying herself for a battle of wills, but quiets when she sees what Danny sees. The evening news is on, with a story about a house fire down the street. There are children wrapped in blankets and toys in the road, parents sobbing and cops directing traffic, fire-fighters and hoses and the sinister crackle of a collapsing house that looks too much like their own. Danny's wide-eyed and frowning, his book clutched hard in his hands, and Ellen sees how it looks to him, all the risk and the sadness and the makings of fear. "Hey," she says, and crouches beside him. "Look for the helpers, huh? Look for the people who help."

Danny glances at her, and his eyes are so blue they still take her aback, Jim's eyes in this whole other body. She nods at him, at the screen, and he looks back, points out a firefighter, points out a cop. "Yeah," she says. "See? People help. Just like daddy. It's okay." And she rubs her son's back as he almost smiles, wonders at the determination that passes across his face, kisses the tousled curls on the top of his head and pulls him away.


End file.
